


Logistics

by nanda (nandamai)



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Episode: s02e01 Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nandamai/pseuds/nanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He didn't know where Jack fit in his life now and he thought it best not to decide in bed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Logistics

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to splash_the_cat for the beta.

The logistics seemed to take care of themselves after Hart shimmered away. Really, as Ianto realized while driving home, it was Tosh, who had deftly maneuvered them all to get Ianto alone with Jack as soon as possible.

"Owen, you can go home, right?" she'd said in the car park, so quietly they had to concentrate to hear. "Gwen, you're welcome at mine until Rhys leaves for work. Ianto, you'll take care of Jack?"

Ianto was either grateful or indignant. He didn't know which yet.

Jack was silent in the passenger seat, though he seemed unable to stop fiddling with the automatic window. Up, down. Up, down, and Ianto didn't complain. Jack was still silent as he followed Ianto up the stairs to his flat, as they stood facing each other inside.

"Are you hungry?" Ianto asked finally.

"No."

"Would you like a drink?"

"No."

Ianto blinked. "Right, then. I'll just make up the sofa for you." He didn't know where Jack fit in his life now and he thought it best not to decide in bed. He stepped towards the cupboard, aware of Jack following him.

"I'll do it," Jack said. "You're exhausted and I know where the sheets are." 

Ianto stopped walking and looked at Jack, at the almost shy look in his eyes. This wasn't the everyday, arrogant Jack the rest of the team saw. This Jack was quiet and confusing.

"No," he said, turning back to his task. "You'll use the wrong sheets and at least four pillows. No grown man needs four pillows." He opened the cupboard himself and pulled out the right sheets, the pillows and his spare duvet.

Jack was right behind him, staring. 

"What?" Ianto reshuffled the pile of bedding in his hands.

"Nothing." Jack's gaze fluttered away. After a moment it fluttered back to Ianto's face, down to his hands, up to his face again and down again. He tried to hide a smirk. "You might want to count those."

Ianto frowned and counted. "Fuck."

Before Ianto even knew he'd moved, the bedding was on the floor and he'd spun Jack hard against the cupboard door. Jack welcomed his tongue like a drowning man welcomes air, sucking and gasping and scrabbling at Ianto's shoulders as if he might disappear under the waves.

***

Ianto woke up, sticky and itchy, on the sofa. They'd never got to the sheets, so he was naked under the uncovered duvet -- he'd have to have it cleaned _again_ \-- and he was alone. He sighed. Alone was normal.

Rolling over, he started at the dark form sitting on his coffee table, stark against the electric nighttime glow blaring through the open windows. Jack was also still naked, staring again, elbows on his knees. 

Ianto rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. "Jack? What are you doing?"

"Watching you sleep."

"Why?"

Jack shook his head. When he didn't reply, Ianto started to think about breakfast. It must be near dawn; they hadn't had dinner and he couldn't remember the last thing he'd eaten before the blowfish and the sports car, before Jack reappeared in his life.

He heard Jack take a long breath. "How long was I gone, Ianto?"

"Seven weeks, six days and nineteen hours," Ianto said automatically. Then his brain shifted into gear and he asked, "Was it less for you?"

Jack unfolded his body, sat up straight. "More," he said, almost dreamily. "A lot more."

Ianto sat up as well, facing Jack, laying a hand on his knee. "Jack?"

"A year, two weeks, three days." With a dry chuckle, he added, "I told you I had time to think." He covered Ianto's hand with his own. Ianto turned his over and squeezed.

After a few moments of silence, Jack said, "It wasn't a good year."

"No." Ianto weaved his fingers with Jack's, imagining the sort of disaster Jack might have fallen into with the Doctor. He knew he could press, probably drag out more than Jack wanted or needed to tell. He'd done it before. 

He didn't press. He waited.

"I wanted to come home," Jack said eventually. Ianto shut his mouth on a gasp before it could escape; he'd half expected the usual bad joke and leer. "The Doctor asked if I -- but I wanted to come home."

Ianto took three breaths, in, out, in, out, in, out, thinking. Jack's fingers tensed between his.

"Come on." Ianto stood, pulling Jack up with him and towards the other room. "You can stare all you like and my back won't hurt in the morning."


End file.
